


Camera Obscura

by graspthesanity



Category: Blur (Band)
Genre: Have a fright, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-19 00:16:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19345621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graspthesanity/pseuds/graspthesanity
Summary: A betrayed Graham commits suicide and haunts his entire circle.





	Camera Obscura

I was never fond of walking into places like these, but then when things aren’t meant to happen… happen, you find yourself at the door with tarot cards lying on the floor and an anxious set of eyes following every move with a flask. 

He doesn’t even tell the fortune every now and then, it’s a small sand clock where the grains have reached the bottom, but the money keeps coming in simply because no one is taking it. I wish he was there to greet me with the eyes that belonged to someone else, but instead the wrong glasses and the wrong face greets me with mild curiosity, taking another swing of the flask even if it’s 9 on the dot. 

“Morning, Damon.” And I feel my whole body get shot with electricity. I jerk my head back towards him, instead of watching the boxes pile up with different articles which had once glorified the walls. Jarvis sits up, fixing his glasses and he looks like he had taken Graham’s death worse than any of us. After all, they had owned the store together. I always thought that they were both an item, until Jarvis laughed, exposing his neck, laughing with his head leaning backwards as if it were to snap with a female companion, asking in French who was I.

“Oh, that’s Graham’s lover boy.” 

I’d shuffle even more awkwardly, lighting a cigarette before times changed to the core, before Britain showed its fucked up face, back when Jarvis was about to flee to France and now he’s back. But it’s as if we’ve all been called back. We were all present at the funeral, with roses closing the hole of the once leaking blood of Graham. 

That night… That fucking night, he placed a curse on us all. 

Revealing those who weren’t outed, aging those who were young and losing lovers who were once loved. 

Jarvis had taken the Ouija board from under the love potions I had once snug, which had made Graham furious. He was a few years older than I was. I remember the whole ordeal, I mixed it in his drink and he watched me with glistering eyes as he drank it… We made love for the first time, I screeched out in pain and he held my throat between his hands, thrusting deep, telling me to stop whining, the potions were expired and the next day he apologized. 

I just shook my head, all red and telling him that it was all okay and that was the strongest orgasm I’ve ever had. Was it a lie? No. 

And so Jarvis had taken out the Ouija board, all of us holding hands and he shushed at us. We had cigarettes between our lips, smoking nervously and blowing out the smoke, some asshole even had a cigar. I don’t know how he managed to sneak one in, winking at me, probably thinking that this was all mumbo jumbo but we needed a certain amount of men for this work. He collapsed dead right after so we held his, cold, blue hands as Graham was summoned. It’s not easy to yank someone out of hell. 

Thus, he cursed us all, that night. 

Because he knew about my infidelity, because he had chosen the man to die just for the sole resemblance of a name. The dead’s anger amplifies and goes through the ages. I dreamt that night of a high castle in Scotland, a name I won’t recall, and I was asked by Graham numerous times to play cards with him and the Devil. 

“Don’t you want your lover back?” Asked Graham. 

“Don’t you want your lover back?” The Devil asked. But instead I kept banging on the windows, knowing the legend where they would be shut in the next day, the whole room would be closed off forever, nothing was fairy tales, everything was a store of revenge and vengeance. I dared to look at the Devil in the eyes, looking deep and beyond, until I collapsed. 

They had found me fallen out of the bed the next day inside the castle, just outside the old room. The police started interrogating me. Are the fucking police investigating what was a man whose lover had committed suicide due to the infidelity doing?

I had nothing to answer. 

I cried when I got home and fled to London again. 

I knew Jarvis would be there and there he was, drinking, unable to quit the store and my pain was my own to bear. I’d betrayed Graham. No matter how much love I would offer, no matter how much pain I would suffer, he would follow me until I would be dead, I could feel him cling onto my wings, I could feel his kisses flutter among the whole length of my body. I knew what oral sex with him felt like. I knew how much he enjoyed taking it from behind. I knew every inch of his body to lick. But nothing was enough.   
He would’ve never forgiven me. 

I tried to travel outside the country, but it was enough. Now I needed him back, I needed to get the curse of everyone who he ever interacted with… But I was with Jarvis drinking himself to death, never quenching his thirst and lost eyes watching me. 

‘What have you done, Damon?’ He asked all of the walls of the tarot store many, many times. He had walked in circles, fixing his glasses, allowing nothing in his way to stay the same way as he would knock everything down when he was sober and also when drunk.

What have I done?

What have I done?

I wasn’t even the one who discovered his lifeless body, it was Jarvis. He had killed himself at work, they had a small bathtub and he had shot himself dead there while his co-worker walked outside to get some pastries, an odd request coming from Graham, but the man obliged nonetheless, maybe because we all knew that Graham was a thread which was going to be cut, both ends curling up from the tiredness of being stretched out their entire life, never to meet again. 

Jarvis had a lit candle in his store. 

I looked at him, as he drank further from the flask, not saying much.

I blew it out. 

“Go home, Jarvis, you need to.”

“I have no home, Damon, if you fucking knew… This is all I have.” This was a first that he had spoken to me so harshly, so I had to turn around and see his face of aggression. He   
punched me right in the nose and spat on my face. 

“You’ll carry the burden of his death until you die… Your own fault for stealing, giving an expired love potion to a man who already was in love…” He pushed me against the wall and I could see passer-bys not even looking at the eerie store. We were alone in that sense. 

He started screaming nonsense, his eyes going red, screaming, screaming, screaming. 

BANG.

And his head rolled on the floor, as I screeched, only to reveal Graham’s head behind Jarvis with his entire body. A slivering ghost, as I was no longer fading from Jarvis’ choking. 

He looked up at me, wearing the same bloodied stripy sweater on the day he shot himself and then he stepped over me, walking through me, allowing me to scream, just like the day I was invited to play cards with him and the Devil. On the day he died. 

When he had actually been transparent like a ghost. 

Only now… He wasn’t.

**Author's Note:**

> The idea originally was supposed to be light and nothing like this, but then I started expanding it and kept writing, falling in love with how eerie it was getting and so Camera Obscura was born. 
> 
> For my other work, and to know why I use AO3, see here: https://graspthesanity.wordpress.com/2019/06/09/why-i-use-ao3/


End file.
